


A Hard Day's Night

by chibi_nightowl



Series: A Diamond in the Rough [1]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Antigone the Cat, Language, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Security Guard!Jason, Stray!Tim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 09:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12745563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: “You better not have had a heart-attack, you piece of shit. I refuse to give you mouth to mouth.”Jason stands but before he can get his hands on the phone to dial 911, he’s stopped by the unmistakable feeling of something sharp at his throat.“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a low voice almost purrs from behind him.





	A Hard Day's Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [comicroute](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comicroute/gifts).



> Happy birthday comicroute!
> 
> Beta'd by GoAwayOlivia.

Jason hates his job sometimes. Yeah, sure, the night shift pays better than the day (the shift differential is the only thing that helps make rent) but the quality of conversation and topics are seriously lacking. He knows he’s not the most social person to begin with, but even he’d like to speak with someone face to face sometimes rather than over the walkie talkie as he does his rounds.   
  
But then again, he’s also sworn more than once his cat carries a better conversation than some of the morons he works with. That reminds him, he needs to buy Antigone food on the way home. If he doesn’t then she’ll make his life a tragedy, just like the one he named her for.   
  
Dramatic much? Yes, but so is his cat.  
  
As he approaches the security entrance to start his outdoor rounds, Jason stops and grabs his company issued jacket from the office. WE may pay better than most places he’s worked (okay, it’s the best paying job he’s ever had, with real benefits, one of which even pays for him to get some college under his belt so he can get the fuck out of Gotham), but their company branding sucks balls. The thin coat looks nice but does nothing against the cold wind blowing outside. He hasn’t been here long enough to get the winter version of the jacket, not that he has high hopes for it either.  
  
“Headin’ outside, Jay?” asks the lazy slob Jason would sooner kick upside the head than speak with. Bob is the head guard on the night shift and doesn’t let anyone forget it, lording over the poor peons he’s supposed to _supervise_.   
  
Jason is also positive the man is trying to hit on him. It normally wouldn’t bother him but he knows for a fact the man is married and has two kids. Cheating bastard.   
  
“Yeah,” he replies, tugging on the jacket over his long-sleeved dress shirt. White shirt, blue pants, blue blazer. So original. Whatever, he didn’t have to pay for the uniform, which was all the better for him. Jason hates the jacket and the pants though. Itchy and cheap polyester that chafes in all the wrong places. He’s half tempted to _accidentally_ set his pants on fire to see how toxic the fumes are.   
  
“It’s still raining,” Bob says helpfully. “Try not to get _too wet_ out there.” There’s no mistaking the leer in his eyes. It makes Jason glad he wears an undershirt beneath his white button down, making it less wet t-shirt party and more sodden _I will kick your ass and enjoy it_ when he comes in from the rain.  
  
It was raining when he arrived earlier and as the temperature drops, chances are likely it’s changed to freezing rain. He’s the low man on the totem pole, so outdoor rounds in crap weather always fall to him. 

“I’ll try not to,” Jason replies and pulls a rain poncho out of his locker. He can’t help but smirk at Bob’s crestfallen face. Asshole. He really wants to punch the man. Or report him. But he’s never done more than give him a few looks and make a few slightly suggestive comments. The man’s more of a creep than anything else, but as soon as he crosses that line, Jason will have no problems with reporting his ass to HR. That’s one thing he likes about WE. They don’t tolerate this kind of shit.  
  
A blast of wind sends rain smack into his unprotected face as he exits the building. “Motherfucker,” Jason swears as he wipes futilely at his eyes.   
  
While he’s distracted, he completely misses the dark figure sneak into the building behind him, barely catching the gap in the door before it shuts firmly.   
  
For all his grumbles, Jason still does his job. The facility he’s currently assigned to is a Wayne Pharmaceuticals research office, five stories high, but not all that big around. Since it’s a WE building, it also has all the bells and whistles that really ought to negate the need for an outdoor patrol in the first place. That fat fuck sitting all nice and comfy and _dry_ is reaping the benefit and Jason is sure he’s enjoying watching him suffer as he checks the gate, the loading dock, the main entrance, any place where someone could gain access into the building.   
  
He resists the urge to flip off the cameras as he walks by each one.   
  
It takes maybe twenty minutes to check everything and make sure it’s secure. The rain keeps coming down and Jason can feel his feet sloshing around in his dress shoes. Those he had to pay for as the company apparently didn’t have his size on hand when he was hired on. He wishes he could have put on his heavier boots but noooo. Damn dress code.   
  
When he gets inside, Jason’s mood is foul. Due to the rain, which was just as icy as he expected, he didn’t get a chance to have his nightly cigarette. He’s trying to quit and has been doing a pretty damn good job if he says so himself.   
  
He strips off the plastic poncho and hangs it by the door to drip.   
  
But when he pops his head into the office to hang up his jacket, Jason’s jaw drops.   
  
“Shit.”   
  
He rushes forward and kneels next to Bob. The man is lying on the floor, his bad combover all in disarray and revealing the balding scalp beneath.   
  
Jason presses a finger against his throat, feeling for a pulse. It’s there, thready and fast. “You better not have had a heart-attack, you piece of shit. I refuse to give you mouth to mouth.”

He stands but before he can get his hands on the phone to dial 911, he’s stopped by the unmistakable feeling of something sharp at his throat.   
  
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a low voice almost purrs from behind him. “He’ll wake up on his own soon enough. Had to hit him a bit harder than I planned to.”  
  
“Wish I coulda watched.” It slips out before Jason can stop it.   
  
“Oh?” The voice asks leadingly. It’s male, but that’s about the only characteristic Jason can pick up from it.   
  
He shrugs as best he can, trying to decide if it’s worth it spring around to try and catch the man behind him. It’s not a knife at his throat, but something else. Definitely sharp as he carefully swallows and feels the pressure. “Asshole likes to hit on me. I ask how his wife is. Fucker hates that.”  
  
It’s the best thing Jason can think of as he tries to stall. There’s an emergency panic button on the underside of the desk if he can just reach it.  
  
The voice sounds amused. “And does being hit on by a man bother you?”   
  
“Nah,” Jason replies. “I’m flexible.” He shifts minutely, but the _fingers_ against the front of his throat tighten. Shit, are those are gloves?  
  
“I wouldn’t do that either,” the man says, his voice warning now and no longer playful. “I really don’t want to have to hurt you too.”  
  
“I’m just doing my job,” Jason tries. “It ain’t much but it pays the bills and keeps me and her royal bitchiness fed.”  
  
And pays for his associate’s degree. Fuck, if he loses this job, he is _screwed_.   
  
“That doesn’t sound too nice. Girlfriend?”   
  
“My cat.”   
  
The man chuckles, low and warm in his ear. “They _can_ be demanding, can’t they?” he asks in a commiserating tone but it doesn’t sound like he’s expecting an answer.   
  
Jason gives him one anyways. He’s been craving conversation so why not? “Well, she’s gonna take it out on my books if I don’t bring home food today, so if you’ve got a move you’re gonna make, do it now so I can at least try and catch ya.”   
  
There’s another chuckle, but this one sends a pleasurable shiver down his spine. What the hell? “ _Try_ being the operative word,” the man says. “I doubt you’ll get very far.”

The fingers are suddenly gone and Jason whirls around, already gearing up for a race to the door. He’s tall and knows he’s fast, but the man he sees behind him, well, now he understands why he sounds so confident.

He’s shorter than him by a few inches at least and dressed in…Jason blinks. A black leather catsuit zipped up to just under his chin, greenish goggles over his eyes, and a snug fitting hood with cat ears on top. He’s pretty sure that’s a whip wrapped around his waist. And he can’t forget the gloves…sharp metal tips each finger, long and curved just like Antigone’s claws.

The man has the gall to jauntily wave at him before he makes a run for it.

Jason slaps the emergency alarm and gives chase, leaping over the still unconscious Bob, and eating up the distance between them in furious strides. It’s not far to the security door and he knows he locked it behind him when he came back in. The _cat-burglar_ will have to pause long enough to open it and when he does…

He tackles the man from behind, his hands wrapping around a slim waist and drags them both to the floor.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” the black clad man purrs, not even sounding upset over the change in position.

“Yeah?” Jason retorts, trying to keep a hold of the squirming man and watching out for his hands. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe this?” The man somehow twists in Jason’s grip, and manages to get a leg under his, wrapping it around his calf and _rolls_ them so that he’s on top. Jason holds on through the roll and somehow finds the cat-burglar in his lap.

“Pretty sure I didn’t pay for a lap dance,” he says as he tries keep hold of the man. If he could just get him against the door, he could use his greater bulk to pin him in place. What good that’ll do him, he’s not sure yet, but it’s a plan and he’s sticking to it.

“I’ll gladly give a cutie like you a raincheck,” the man replies without missing a beat as he head-butts Jason. It hurts, but he hangs on. To be honest, he’s had worse. _Given_ worse.

The angle isn’t the best, but the man follows through with a swipe of his gloved hands against Jason’s thigh, fingers tangling in the dark blue fabric and ripping it to shreds.

Jason instinctively lets go, knowing he doesn’t have a chance if he starts bleeding.

“You little shit,” he growls as he rolls to one knee. He really wishes he had his gun with him, but he doesn’t have that kind of security guard certification yet. Doesn’t even have a fucking taser. If he makes it through this with his job intact, he’ll make sure to get his certification for the former.

Gloved fingers grope at the door behind him, while thin lips curve into a playful grin. The other man looks highly amused. “If it helps at all, I didn’t steal anything.”

“Then what the hell _were_ you doing?” Who breaks into a medical research building and doesn’t lift something? Even Jason knows the street value of some of the more portable equipment here.

The grin broadens. “Testing something for a friend.”

Jason scowls. “What the fuck?”

“If it’s any consolation, the other guy failed miserably. You…” the man’s grin sharpens. “I’ll give you a passing score. Even though you did let me in, you still tried to do your job.”

“I let you in?” Jason says in disbelief, but the cat-burglar just waves as he exits the building.

“See you around, handsome.”

*****

By the time Jason drags his ass through the front door of his little apartment, the sky has lightened behind the thick cloud cover, even though it’s still raining. He’s exhausted after the grueling drilling he went through in the aftermath of the break-in, but to rub salt in the wound, he’s also suspended while the internal investigation occurs. Suspended with pay, but he’s not counting on that lasting.

The security footage of the entire incident is simply gone. Looped from just before entry, which means there was no one to corroborate his story as Bob had no idea what even happened. Jason has a suspicion about that. It would not surprise him at all if the fucker tried hitting on the cat-burglar. That suit left very little to the imagination after all.

It sucks, but this isn’t the first time life has thrown shit at him. Story of his fucking life. He’s already working on plans to make ends meet for the next two months. It’s almost the end of the year and he hasn’t signed up for his next semester yet. Bartending sucks, but he can get good tips if he plays up the charm. What he’ll do next year, he’s not sure yet.

An insistent _mrreow_ echoes through the small space.

Even with everything that happened, Jason didn’t forget the cat food.

“Yeah, yeah, princess. I went to the store. Gimme a minute.”

“No worries, I fed her already.”

Jason’s head jerks hard towards the folding poker table that passes as his kitchen table. It’s covered in papers, books, and his cheap laptop, so it’s more of a desk really, but that’s… Perched in the little chair tucked against the dark window blinds is the cat-burglar from earlier.

“The _hell_ are you doing here?” Jason growls, setting down his grocery bag with a solid _thunk_. “Do you have any idea what kind of _shit_ I had to go through because of you?”

“You’ll be fine,” the man replies, breezily waving a hand. “I said I was testing something for a friend. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” He doesn’t move, but there’s a big mop of white and gray fur in his lap that meows again when his fingers stop running through her silky fur. “She is bitchy, isn’t she?” he comments idly.

“A fucking princess,” Jason glares, picks up the grocery bag, and stomps into his little kitchenette. The effect is lost as his shoes squeak over the cheap flooring. He’s pretty sure they’re ruined. Yet another fucking expense he doesn’t need.

“Does your daddy spoil you? I think he does,” he hears the man say to his cat.

Jason starts a kettle for tea and puts away the cat food. He pointedly ignores the murmurs behind him as he starts some eggs and toast for a quick breakfast, making enough for one because he’s a petty bastard. Food, tea, shower, sleep. That’s all he wants right now. He’ll figure out the rest when he wakes up. The cat-burglar’s words have done nothing to reassure him. Why should they? He’s a fucking _cat-burglar_.

The tea helps calm him down. Warm and minty, the scent and the flavor gives him the fortitude he needs to turn around and face the man still cooing at Antigone.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again, this time a bit more politely than before.

The man grins as he gracefully unfolds himself from the chair. The cat is curled up happily in his arms, purring like the little engine that could. Traitor. “You intrigued me,” he says.

Jason arches an eyebrow, not buying it. “Right,” he drawls. “Something tells me you’re more interested in Antigone than me.”

“Is that her name?” The man’s face lights up and he cuddles her close, rubbing his nose against the top of her head.

“We’re both fucking tragedies.” He rescued Antigone a few years ago when she was a sodden mess of a tiny little fur ball he’d heard squeaking in the alley behind the bar he was working at.

“It doesn’t look like that,” the man offers.

Jason feels like he’s being picked apart under the man’s steady gaze. He can’t see his eyes clearly under the green goggles, but he’s felt the weight of them since he noticed the man was here. “I work hard. Life’s never handed me anything on a silver fucking platter. Everything I got, I did it myself.”

There’s another grin. “You’re interesting.”

“So you’ve said.” Jason crosses his arms over his chest. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m cold, I’m tired, and I really want a shower.”

The man makes no pretense of hiding his appraising expression, his eyes raking Jason’s fit form. “As fun as that sounds, I’ll give you your privacy for now. Perhaps next time.”

Is he _flirting?_ Jason’s jaw drops, not having expected it in the slightest. “I don’t put out until at least the third date,” he comes back with, trying to cover his surprise.

That’s totally not what he meant to say. He’s supposed to be mad at this man. This is the person who’s put his fucking job on the line.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Jason,” the man replies smugly, setting Antigone down on the table.

The use of his name doesn’t surprise him at all. The cat outfit is a dead giveaway now that he’s thinking straight and isn’t simply reacting.

Still… “Who are you?”

The cat-burglar glides into his personal space, closing the gap so smoothly he looks like liquid silk as he moves. A gloved hand cups his jaw, a sharp claw running gently over the stubbled skin. “I’m Stray.”

Jason swallows. He knows this name. Has heard it whispered on the streets and in the news for several years now. Stray. The protégé of Catwoman. One of the best thieves in the world.

“I got nothin’ for you to steal. Unless you want Tig, but I’ll fight you for her.”

“You have one thing I might be interested in stealing,” Stray replies. He rises up on his toes and closes the distance between them, his lips brushing Jason’s ever so slightly, so faint he’s almost sure he missed it before he’s stepping away.

“And what’s that?” Jason asks, trying to hide just how much the simple touch affected him.

There’s another smug smirk, this time with a flash of even white teeth. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

 


End file.
